


Shh, Bärchen

by pippen2112



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, Explicit Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Groping, Inappropriate Use of Mage Hand, Invisibility, Leather Kink, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Blow Jobs, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Magic, Teasing, inappropriate use of magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-10-10 17:03:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20531483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pippen2112/pseuds/pippen2112
Summary: During a night off in the local tavern, Caleb and Fjord try something new.





	Shh, Bärchen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GrannyBoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrannyBoo/gifts).

> This fic came out of a bored night when I needed some prompts, and Oaky was kind enough to supply me with the following:  
\- Leather kink  
\- Caleb using mage hand from across the room to finish Fjord off  
\- Semi public sex
> 
> And after I started working on this fic, discussions were had about using Invisibility to get up to smutty shenanigans, so thank you to everyone for inspiring me further.
> 
> As always, this goes out to CritGoals and the Widofjord discord. Love y'all!

“_Bärchen._” Caleb’s voice sounds at the back of his mind, and Fjord sits a little taller at the bar. “_Don’t turn around, just listen. I have an idea I would like to try. Would you be interested?_”

Fjord furrows his brow as he forcibly stares down at his ale. If he had his way, he’d be across the barroom sitting with Caleb and enjoying the companionable quiet, but when he came down for the evening, Caleb was cooped up at a little table, nose deep in his spellbook. He figured Caleb wanted a little solitude while he worked. _Apparently not_. Clearing his throat, Fjord holds up his tankard to hide his mouth and answers, “I’m not opposed. What did you have in mind?” 

“_It’s, um… It’s pretty racy._”

Oh, it’s _that_ kind of idea. Warmth pulsing low in his belly, Fjord takes a deep drag from his tankard, aiming to drain it. “I’ll meet you upstairs in a few minutes,” he says, pretending his cheeks aren’t heating up as he speaks.

“_Nein,_” Caleb says, stilling Fjord before he can stand. “_I want to…here._”

Here? Fjord gapes, his eyes immediately searching the barroom. The rest of the Mighty Nein have scattered for the evening, but the tavern itself already has a modest crowd. There’s a trio of bards playing at the little stage across the room and about twenty-odd people spread throughout the room, holding down barstools or hunkered around tables. A lot of eyes.

Caleb goes on. “_I know we only discussed it as a passing fancy, and if you are uncomfortable, I understand. But if you are interested, move to the open stool at the end of the bar so your back is to the main door._” As he speaks, something grazes along the line of Fjord’s shoulders, a ghost of a touch.

He checks over his shoulder but finds no one behind him. _Odd, I could’ve sworn…_ He glances toward Caleb, but the wizard has his nose in his books, the picture of innocence were it not for the bright blush coloring his cheeks. Gods, he is beautiful and an absolute menace when he sets his mind to it, no matter how unassuming he appears. Regardless of his reservations about trying anything sexual in public, Fjord can’t deny he’s intrigued. Desire thrums through him, his dick stirring. Sure it’s a risk, but Caleb hasn’t steered him wrong before.

Chills racing down his spine, Fjord stands, taking his tankard and moving down to the empty seat as Caleb directed. “Alright,” he replies, his voice low and thick with want. “How do you want to do this?”

“_I will handle everything, Bärchen. All you need to do is sit and act naturally. And if any point you change you mind, all you need to do is look my way, and I will stop._”

An unconscious noise well in his throat, but Fjord gulps hard and silences it. He stares down at the bar top, studying the wood grain and trying to calm his mind. What does Caleb have planned? What could he be up to? Exhaling slowly, he curls his hands around his tankard to stop himself from fidgeting. Whatever Caleb has up his sleeve, Fjord can only guess, and somehow that makes it all the better.

“_I have been considering the gloves you gifted me_,” Caleb says, his tone light and teasing, a tone Fjord still isn’t used to hearing. “_They are quite fine. Supple and nicely fitted and a far cry from my usual style._”

Fjord shivers. He knows the gloves all too well: dark leather with sliver embroidery along the cuffs, too fine and fancy for day wear but still he couldn’t take his eyes off them. He’d first seen them in a clothing store during one of the group’s many shopping trips through Rosohna and had gone back three times just to look at them. On the last trip, he’d been so flustered when the shop attendant asked if he needed any help, he’d panicked and bought them just to get out of there. Held onto them for the better part of two months before he gave them to Caleb, his eyes averted through the whole ordeal. But Caleb had accepted them with gratitude and grace, and Fjord figured that was that. He shouldv’e known Caleb was far more clever than to just leave it alone.

Before Fjord can respond, something flutters across his inner thigh, a flicker of sensation, there and gone before he can look. He jolts in his seat, the back of his neck hot and prickling.

“_Even so, they’re not some idly given present, are they?_”

When Caleb doesn’t continue, Fjord takes another drink of ale and whispers back, “No, they’re not.”

The pressure against his inner thigh returns, a brush that settles over his cock and squeezes just the way he likes. Fjord chokes on a mouthful of ale, coughing as Caleb replies, “_When you bought them, did you think of me wearing them while I touched you here?_”

His throat constricts around a note of want, leaving him hacking and struggling with the urge to arch into the pressure. Eyes squeezed shut, Fjord clings to the edge of the bar like that might salvage his control. But the arcane hand cupping his groin offers no mercy, squeezing and stroking and driving him closer and closer to madness.

And just as he starts to lean into the pressure, the hand vanishes. Fjord sucks in a harsh breath, hot under the collar and aching in his trousers. Slowly, carefully, he settles back in his seat, prepared when the hand returns. But now, it only teases, ghosting over his cock, palming his hips, slipping up beneath his breastplate to trail over his stomach. Somehow, Fjord sits tall and keeps his eyes forward, relishing each touch and doing his damnedest not to think about the pair of draw sitting two stools down form him. The pair of drow who could easily glance up and notice him, panting for breath and aching for the slightest touch.

“_Shhh, Bärchen,_” Caleb whispers once more at the back of his mind as the Mage Hand cups one of his pecs, firm and possessive. “_If you sit still and keep quiet, I will make you feel good._”

He nods shallowly, steeling his spine and biting the inside of his cheek to stay silent. Phantom fingers close around his nipple, tweaking and pinching, and he swallows back another noise, his hands clamped tight to the bar. He stares ahead, but for the life of him, he couldn’t say what he’s looking at, not while pleasure blurs his vision. It’s good. It’s so good. But all too soon, the hand fizzles into nothing once more. 

Blood sharp at the back of his mouth from gnawing at his cheek to silence a whine, Fjord sags forward. Gods, he’s a grown-ass man; it shouldn’t be this easy to take him apart.

“_So good for me, Fjord_._ You indulge me so sweetly. You’re stunning, working so hard to keep your passions under wraps. To hide in plain sight so no one else will see. If they did, I don’t know who they would be more envious of: you, taking your pleasure and maintaining your composure, or me because I’m the one who gets to make you ache._”

Before he can stop himself, he keens. 

At once, he goes stock still in his stool, eyes wide and flushed to the tips of his ears. He doesn’t look, but was that one of the drow shifting to stare at him? Fjord does his best to mask his ragged breathing, but he feels a proper wreck: tense and twitchy and aroused to all hell from a few well-placed touches and Caleb’s wicked words. He gulps hard, reminding himself to keep calm just as Caleb’s voice rings in his mind once more. “_Remember, Bärchen._ _Still. Quiet._”

He nods, tensing in anticipation of the Mage Hand to reform and resume its teasing. But thirty seconds pass. A minute. Still nothing. Gods, this is unnerving in the worst way, but he holds still and stays silent. Waiting. Just as he’s about to peek over his shoulder, he feels someone press up against his back, a warm, unmistakable presence. 

Before he can shift forward in his seat to give them room, Fjord feels lips against the nape of his neck. A cool, leather-clad hand clasps around his throat, a familiar size and weight. Fjord gasps reflexively, glancing down, but there’s nothing there. No one. How?

The lips creep toward his ear, and a low chuckle warms through him. “Shh, _Bärchen_,” Caleb whispers against the shell of his ear. “Can’t have anyone catching on.”

His eyes bulge. _Caleb!_ The pieces click together in his mind more slowly than he’ll ever admit. Caleb’s invisible. Caleb’s behind him. Caleb has him by the throat. And he _likes _it if the warm pressure at the small of his back is anything to go by. 

Fjord clenches his jaw, fighting back an outright moan. As soon as he gets himself under control, Caleb strokes his cheek consolingly, and right, the cloves. Caleb’s wearing the gods-damned gloves. His cock throbs at the realization. 

“Can’t have anyone else knowing how this excites you. Being on edge and ready for me from just a few touches,” Caleb murmurs as he presses closer, his free arm wrapped around Fjord and palming his dick, the same knowing squeeze as the Mage Hand, but this one is warm and firm, and fuck, how is he supposed to sit here and take it when his blood thrums in his ears, calling for him to throw Caleb over his shoulder and drag him upstairs. To strip him bare and sit him in his lap so Fjord can tease every inch of him. 

Trailing a finger down the line of his throat, Caleb coos, “You’re trembling. Poor _Bärchen_, you must feel so good.” Caleb presses his face into Fjord’s neck, licking and biting and whispering more promises. “It would be so easy to let go right here. To push you over the edge. Right here in front of all these people. But none of them get to know your pleasure. Just me.”

A groan resonates deep in his chest, quietly chanting “_yes, yes, yours, yours,_” in time with his racing heart. Gods, he never thought he’d like it this much, but he does. Strung out on bliss. So close to the edge he can almost taste it. Caleb firm and strong around him, holding Fjord with all his strength, letting him feel small and vulnerable where he’s so used to being alert.

“_Cay_,” he whimpers, quiet as he can.

“Are you close, Fjord?”

He nods, his throat bobbing as he swallows noise after needy noise. 

An invisible touch lands against his lower lip, cool and smooth. Caleb’s thumb. He opens his mouth to suck it in, but Caleb moves it before he can, tutting gently. “Count to twenty, pay your tab, and meet me out back.”

_Out back? But we have a— _Before Fjord can retort, Caleb retreats, the pressure against his back vanishing and with it, all that lovely, teasing warmth. Fjord exhales slowly through his nose, carefully removes his hands from the bar—he definitely left a few claw marks on the wood—and starts counting in his head. By the time he reaches eight, his tankard is empty. By fourteen, he has a couple random coins at hand. And at twenty, he stands, leaves the handful of change, and exits. Walking with an erection is less than pleasant, but at least his armor hides it.

Outside, the night is cool, the alley just as filthy as he expected but thankfully there’s no smell of piss or refuse. Fjord peers through the darkness, searching out Caleb’s form, but even with his dark vision, he can’t make out Caleb. Eyes and ears peeled, he pads deeper into the alley. “Caleb?”

He gets halfway down the road, carefully sidestepping questionable puddles, when sure hands settle on his hips and push his back against the wall. Suddenly, lips press against his, hot and fervent as Caleb licks into his mouth, groaning. A noise rattles out of his chest, and Fjord wraps his arms around Caleb, holding him close. But between kisses, he blinks and sees…nothing. He can feel Caleb warm and firm against him, but the invisibility remains. When they break for air, he cups Caleb’s cheek as best he can, stroking over his stubble. “Darling, I want to see you.”

Caleb huffs a quiet laugh. “You see me every day. Every night. You can see me always, light or dark.” Hands tease down his chest as Caleb backs away. “Consider this evening the field. Now, keep quiet for me, _Bärchen_. We may be alone, but those rules still apply.”

Want ripples through him, numbing his fingertips as he reaches after Caleb, finding only air. Fjord silences another moan, his hands falling back to his side as he waits. And waits. Each breath measured, he bites his lower lip to contain himself. _What does he have planned? More teasing? _A shiver runs down his spine, settling low in his groin.

When his belt starts to unbuckle of it’s own accord, Fjord has to clap a hand over his mouth to smother his cry. He stares down in wonder, watching the laces of his trousers untie, and then cool, smooth fingers draw his length out of his clothes. Caleb strokes him slow and steady, using Fjord’s precome to slicken the way. Choking on his own tongue, Fjord bucks in counterpoint to the strokes, thrusting into Caleb’s grip. Head tipped back against the stone wall behind him, he keeps one eye trained on the mouth of the alley. No matter how much he wants to close his eyes and melt into the pleasure, he can’t leave them so unguarded, but gods he wants to give in and just feel. To cup the back of Caleb’s head and fuck his throat just right. To feel the vibration when Caleb moans around him. 

A needy groan fills the air; only when Caleb tsks and releases his grip does Fjord realize he made that noise. Biting back a whine, his hips lurch forward instinctively, thrusting into nothing. 

“Shh, _Bärchen_,” Caleb murmurs, close enough now Fjord feels warm breath against his throat. Before Fjord can respond, something presses against his lips, and he opens his mouth automatically. Something soft and pliant fills his mouth, cool to the touch and vaguely earthy in favor, covered with a familiar salty tang of— _Oh!_ Caleb’s glove. Covered in his own spend. He moans again, the sound muffled by the makeshift gag, but not by much.

Caleb chuckles quietly, and the gravelly note sends more heat churning through Fjord’s core. “I was going to say “something to keep you quiet,” but that hardly seems accurate now.” He feels Caleb crane up against his torso, feels chapped lips and stubble press against his cheek as Caleb kisses the corner of his mouth. “Quieter, then. But you’ll have to try a little harder, _Bärchen_, if you don’t want to get caught.”

He whines again as Caleb withdraws, his hands fisted against the wall to stop himself from reaching after him. He sucks in a sharp breath, struggling for control when wet heat surrounds his cock, sucking him deep. Fjord bites down on the glove, clamping a hand over his mouth to keep quiet. Gods, he can hardly believe this. But then his dick hits the back of Caleb’s throat and his eyes roll back into his head. 

It’s so much, so good, and then he hears a muffled slick noise below him and feels vibrations buzz around his cock and he’s lost. Lost to the thought of Caleb on his knees in an alley, as aroused and eager as Fjord feels, and he can hardly contain himself. With his free hand, he reaches for Caleb, his fingertips finding soft curls. He sinks his fingers into Caleb’s hair, tugging gently until he feels Caleb groan around him, and his eyes roll back into his head. 

Sooner than he’d like, his cock pulses, and he comes, spilling down Caleb’s throat with another muffled cry. Caleb sucks him through it, his moans growing louder and louder. Fjord hisses at the overstimulation, but for the life of him he can’t bring himself to pull Caleb back. Not with Caleb whimpering so needily. And gods, Fjord knows those sounds and loves them dearly, the carefree, breathless sounds of Caleb letting go and enjoying himself wholeheartedly. Even though they’ve fallen into bed together more and more frequently these days, it’s still rare for Caleb to genuinely let himself go.

As Caleb’s cries grow higher and higher, louder and louder in the night, Fjord carefully draws the glove out of his mouth, briefly mourning the loss, and whispers, “Come, sweetheart. Come for me, Cay.”

And Caleb moans, long and loud and echoing through the alleyway, and in the blink of an eye, he’s visible again. Kneeling between Fjord’s splayed legs, Caleb is flushed, his eyes lidded and fixed on Fjord, his lips closed tight around Fjord’s cock. His hand works at lightning speed between his own legs. Needy. Impassioned. Lovely. And with a full bodied jolt, Caleb goes utterly silent, and his face pinches tight with pleasure, and he comes, his seed splattering over his fingers and the cobbles below. 

Gasping softly, Fjord gingerly draws Caleb away from his dick so he can crouch beside him and pull him into his arms. Hold him close while Caleb’s breathing slows. Lifts Caleb’s hand to his lips and licks him clean. Caleb shivers, letting his weight fall more heavily against Fjord’s chest, but Fjord holds him close, pets Caleb’s hair, and encourages him to enjoy his bliss a little longer.

Suddenly, light footfalls sound at the mouth of the alley, quiet enough Fjord almost missed them. 

“Hello? Is someone down there?” A stranger’s gruff words.

Instantly, Caleb goes rigid in his arms, and Fjord’s head snaps toward the mouth of the alley. With his darkvision, he can just make out the silhouette of a small humanoid approaching. Holding his breath, Fjord leans them back into the shadows, praying they won’t be seen. But he loses his balance and topples, Caleb landing on him with a soft yelp. _Oh, flying fuck!_

The footfalls draw nearer. “Everything okay down there?”

So much for avoiding notice. Scrambling for a response, he forces out, “Fine, fine! Everything’s fine! My friend just got a bit too deep in his cups and is feeling ill.”

On cue, Caleb stumbles onto his hands and knees and starts dry heaving, the sounds absolutely wretched, but Fjord can see he’s shaking with suppressed laughter. 

The stranger flinches, letting out a noise of sickened panic. “Oh, dear. I’ll just—” Without finishing his thought, the figure turns and flees.

Only once his footsteps have faded does Caleb fall fully onto his chest, laughing so hard he starts hiccupping. Fjord lets out a giddy laugh too, the pair egging each other on until their eyes are full of tears and they gasp for breath. Finally, they manage to pull themselves back to their feet and right their clothes. As Fjord watches Caleb fumbling with his laces, he asks, “What brought this on?”

Caleb shrugs. “It has been a while since we’ve had the opportunity to take a risk without it meaning life or death for our friends.” He ducks his head, tucking his shirt back into his trousers. “Did you… have fun?”

“Of course,” he replies, stepping into Caleb’s space, hooking a finger under his chin and pulling him in for a kiss. When they part, he looks down at the sodden glove in his other hand and flushes. “And I believe this is yours.”

“Ah,” Caleb says, taking the one glove and pulling it’s pair from his hand quickly. “_Danke schone_. These will need to be cleaned.”

Fjord’s cheeks burn warmer in the night. “Thank you.”

Humming, Caleb cups his cheek, meeting Fjord’s gaze in the darkness. “Of course, _Bärchen._ Next time, tell me sooner when you want something.”

“You don’t have to—”

Caleb silences him by pressing a finger to his lips. “I want to, Fjord. So remember to tell me, _ja_?”

Nodding bashfully, Fjord pulls Caleb against his side and leads the way back to the tavern. There are a great many things he’d be interested in trying, most certainly, but right now, feeling Caleb listing gently into his side and letting Fjord take his weight fills him with warmth and satisfaction. In the future, maybe he’ll be brave enough to ask for something racy. But until then, he is content.

**Author's Note:**

> One of my favorite things about writing Critical Role fics is rolling for results. The most notable rolls for this fic:
> 
> \- When making his concentration check to maintain Invisibility when he got into it, Caleb rolled at advantage and got.... a 3 and a 2.   
\- After everything, Caleb and Fjord rolled stealth checks of 4 and 5 respectfully, and the bypasser rolled a perception check of 13.  
\- I rolled to determined if they'd be discovered by (1) Nott, (2) Jester, (3) Beau, (4) Caduceus, or (5) a stranger. Stranger won out.  
\- For the dry heaving deception check, Caleb rolled a 19.  
\- When the stranger ran away sick, they just made their constitution saving throw.
> 
> Anywho, thank you for reading! Comments and concrit are always welcome!


End file.
